


Two Separate Lives; Two Separate Fates

by Barricadesandliberties (kgril2987664)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kgril2987664/pseuds/Barricadesandliberties





	Two Separate Lives; Two Separate Fates

“Jeanne. Jeanne, what are my trousers doing in your wardrobe dear?”

Monsieur Leon Enjolras stood in the doorway to his daughter’s salon, holding what appeared to be a pair of trousers that the man may have been able to wear several years prior. Jeanne Enjolras, his daughter (by both appearance as well as nature and blood), looked up from the book she had been reading, completely unphased that her father had walked in on her in her night dress, it had happened often enough to be a formality between father and daughter. She had cocked her head at her father’s rather absurd question.

“I thought they were the trousers you were complaining about the other night and was going to take them to the tailor to be mended.” She lied, acting the part of innocent daughter. Had she given her father the true reason as to why the trousers had been in her possession she would be on her way to a finishing school in Prussia, the same one her deceased mother had attended in her youth.

“And why were you going to do this without informing me?”

“It was going to be a surprise father.” She covered quickly, hoping it was enough. Enjolras could not afford to lose. She had more than her ability to stay in the country to worry about.

Leon looked at his daughter for a few moments before looking back at the trousers in his hands, then back to his daughter.

“I thank you for the kind thought Jeanne, but wouldn’t a young lady like yourself rather spend her allowance on new dresses or trims instead of mending her father’s trousers?”

Enjolras rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“What were you doing in my wardrobe Father? I do not believe that you were simply looking for those trousers, were you?”

“That is beside the point, my dear. Why don’t you leave these old trousers be and use your money on other things, more befitting a young lady. A new hat perhaps? You know, the Baron Beaumont is coming to coming to visit, and his son is coming along. Perhaps you could—“

“Father, I have told you a thousand times already, I have no want to marry the Baron’s son. He’s stiff and hardly any good company.”

“Jeanne..”

“I wanted to do a kind thing for you, Father. May I please take the trousers to the tailor and have them mended for you?” Enjolras had completely set down her book by now, ready to fight in order to keep the trousers in her possession.

“Jeanne, I can easily have another pair made, there is no need to have these fixed. You hardly need to waste your money on me.” Leon began to turn his back, signaling that he was about to close the discussion of the matter, but Enjolras shot to her feet before he was able.

“If you won’t let me mend them for you, at least let me put them to use.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Combe- Julien, the young physician’s student who calls here quite often-“

“Yes, what about him?”

“Well he knows a man, who has a friend, whose brother has hardly enough money to feed his family, let alone clothe them all. I’ve met him, and his own trousers are hardly rags anymore they are so worn.”

“Jeanne, for goodness sake. Take the trousers and don’t let me see them again. I hardly need to be told who in Paris needs a new pair of trousers or a new coat.” He sighed, handing the trousers to his daughter. “You’re so much like your mother. Constantly thinking about someone else. I do wish you would at least give all the young suitors a chance though. You would make some young man very happy.”

Enjolras smiled, gently setting a kiss on her father’s cheek. “You need to rest father. You are hardly ever awake this time of night.”

“Ah yes. I may not have your mother around to remind me when to turn in, but I am certainly lucky to have you.” He smiled, gently kissing his daughter’s forehead, as if she was a little girl and not a beautiful young woman. Leon looked for a moment at his daughter, smiling to himself. “You do look much like your mother, if you only had her dark hair.” He hugged his daughter one last time.

“Yes you would make some young lad very, very happy my dear.”

\- - -

“Enjolras, have I ever told you how beautiful you look in blue?” Combeferre was simply being a gentleman, something he was rather good at doing, but it still warranted a small nudge from Enjolras.

Enjolras had rid herself of the skirts and petticoats of the rich life she lead under her father’s gaze, having donned the trousers, loose white tunic, blue waistcoat, and firm red jacket of her other self. She wore the trousers she had been found with, as well as a shirt she knew her father wouldn’t miss. The waistcoat and jacket had been tailored for her, as well as a modified corset that made her disguise as a man slightly more believable. If her cover was blown her cause would be for nothing.

She strolled beside Combeferre, head held high, long hair pulled back as it normally was. The style made her look old fashioned among the young men she affiliated herself with, but it was better than coming home with her hair cut short for her father, or hiding it under a hat that could easily fall off. This way was far better, this way she was able to hide as a young man and still carry her life at home the way it should be.

“Courfeyrac should come calling again. He knows of this charade, we met at one of the balls my father drags me off to. He’s also seen me at the opera.”

“Ah yes, Mademoiselle Enjolras does enjoy the opera. If any of the others knew who you truly are—“

“Do not muse about it Combeferre, they shan’t know. I don’t plan on letting any but you and Courfeyrac know. I would rather die than have them learn who I truly am.”

“As you wish.” Combeferre muttered as they entered into the Café Musain, the sanctuary of Les Amis de l’ABC.

The back room of the Café, which had been graciously given to Les Amis, was filled with boisterous laughter, even as the group of insurgents concocted their plans of revolution. There were always drinks set on the table and some sort of joke circulating through the thick air of the room.

Enjolras and Combeferre’s entrance into the backroom of the café was met with a few calls of greeting and a strong clap on the back of each from Courfeyrac as they were pulled into the room. The three went straight to work, quickly commanding the attention of all in the room. They had started by discussing possible locations, but it soon evolved into gathering information about what they had gathered since the last meeting. Fifteen more guns had been obtained, ammunition for twenty, and the support for their cause continued to grow by the day. It was enough to send Enjolras off preaching, a practice she did quite often in the café.

“It is not enough for one to say they believe in freedom, they must act on that belief. They must rise with their brothers to defend that freedom.” Enjolras had deepened her voice, something she quite prided herself on being able to do. This odd skill helped her keep her true identity a secret. “We have the hearts of the people in our favor, but we must convince them to take action. We must call them to our side.”

“And what of those who choose not to believe, oh glorious Apollo? Shall you burn the pitiful unbelievers with your fiery gaze?”

Enjolras turned on the man who had spoken. The dark haired cynic, Grantaire, grinning from the corner, his usual bottle of wine clutched in his hand.

“Grantaire, you believe in nothing. Take your drink and your grievances elsewhere.”

“Shall you deny me the answer to my question, dear leader?”

“Grantaire! Do you wish to try my patience?” Enjolras snapped, hoping it would quiet the other man.

“What will you do with the unbelievers?”

“A better question is what I shall do with this unbeliever.” Enjolras muttered, earning herself a glare from Combeferre. “I shall do nothing with the unbelievers. They are no harm to the revolution is they believe in nothing, as you do, Grantaire.”

“Ah, but what about the unbelievers who wish harm to your little cause?”

“Grantaire, you waste my time. Go burden someone else with your pointless ramblings. I do  not wish to listen to any directionless arguments you have for me tonight.” She spat rather angrily before turning back to the others and continuing her speech, forgetting Grantaire in his corner, and hardly noticing the man sketching in a small leaflet with a piece of charcoal.

\- - -

“Enjolras. Enjolras! Do pay attention.”

Enjolras jumped slightly as her father snapped at her. She had been gazing out the window as her father went on about her need to get married, the need to carry on the Enjolras lineage.  She wanted these lectures to end, for her fate to be put in her own hands, not in those of a man she would be sold off to in the form of marriage. She wanted to tell her father that she didn’t want to be the perfect daughter, that she wanted to help others, make the world a better place, but she knew that would be the end and she’d be shipped off, sent to some asylum to live out her days.

“Enjolras, listen to me. The Duc is bringing his son, please, give the boy a chance tonight. I know I can’t force you to do anything, but please, give him even the slightest chance.”

“Papa, I’ve told you too many times to count; I am not interested in a marriage. Why must I marry a man to be accepted in your eyes?”

“Because I want you to be happy. I want you to be able to have a chance at happiness, dearest.”

Enjolras rolled her eyes. “And what makes you think I need a man to be happy, Father? Why can’t I be happy as I am?” She countered, her voice raising as she did so.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice with me!” Leon practically yelled, not helping the situation in any way. “I am the lord of this house, and you will do as I say.”

“Well, what if I don’t want to marry. You can’t force me to do anything, Father.”

“I will do as I please.”

“You would never do this if Maman were still here.” Enjolras yelled, shooting to her feet and storming from the room, tears wetting her cheeks as she ran from the house.

She didn’t stop until she was in a secluded part of a nearby park. Enjolras sunk down at the side of a tree, not caring that her skirts were then covered in dirt and grass. She simply wanted to be left alone and allowed to decide her own freedom. She let her tears fall as she sat there, wishing there was an escape for her, that she would be able to do as she pleased. Yet, knowing who her father was, and that her mother was no longer there to speak reason to him, her fate was set; she would be forced to marry a man she could not ever love. She was going to be forced into the fate that many looked forward to.

Her crying was interrupted by a soft cough and a gentle hand touching her shoulder. Enjolras' head shot up as an all too familiar voice spoke to her.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?"

Grantaire stood next to her. The man she often ignored, and wished to go away was standing above her, wondering if she was alright.

She nodded before mumbling her answer. "Oui, I am fine."

"You sure?" He questioned, taking a seat beside her. "I don't think beautiful women like yourself cry for no reason. Are you sure nothing's wrong."

Why did he care? She was a stranger to him like this, why did he care about her? Was this really who Grantaire was? A kind young gentlemen who cared about women weeping beside trees in the park? Was this really who he was? Her thoughts dragged her away from Grantaire and what he said next.

"Did he hurt you mademoiselle?"

"Pardon?"

"The man who was with you, I saw him storming away. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Enjolras looked at him as if he were crazy. A man? She had come to the park alone, not with any man who could have hurt her.

"I-I was not with a man. I have been alone for some time."

"Oh, I'm sorry. If he did not hurt you, why are you crying?" Grantaire's voice was still kind as he put his hand over her's.

"It's nothing. It has simply been a difficult day." Enjolras muttered, pulling her hand away from his.

"Ah. Would you permit a young man to perhaps spend an afternoon in your presence?"

Enjolras let out a little laugh, though it was darkened slightly by her tears. "May I ask the name of the young man who wishes to spend his time with me?"

Grantaire laughed. "Renaud, Renaud Grantaire. May I ask your's, belle Mademoiselle?" His words were followed with the offer of his hand.

"En-" She caught herself before giving her surname as her answer. "Jeanne. My name is Jeanne." She said softly before giving Grantaire her hand, finally.

"Jeanne, what a beautiful name. Would you like to take a walk with me ,Jeanne? To ease your mind of what has been bothering you."

\- - -

"I don't care if she's the archduchess of Austria or the queen of Persia, we have more important things to discuss than your love life, Pontmercy. You best understand that!"

Enjolras stood at the head of the room, glaring down at her latest form of prey, the innocent Pontmercy. Since the day that her father had snapped she had been hard. The seemingly charming young man had truly become terrible, snapping at the simplest things. Grantaire had given up with his advances on the blonde leader, though he still acted as quite the nuisance in meetings.

"I love her Enjolras, she is the most beautiful girl I have ever met. She is a goddess in my eyes. Not that I expect you to understand."

"Oh, I understand, Pontmercy. I've had my loves in my life, and they've all fallen apart. Best you learn to love your country. Patria will never betray you."

"Enjolras that's enough. Leave him alone." Combeferre muttered softly, stepping in to prevent this from escalating any. Enjolras gave Marius Pontmercy one last toxic gaze before turning to Combeferre for her scolding.

"What has gotten into you my friend?" Combeferre inquired, gently putting a hand on Enjolras' shoulder.

"Nothing." Enjolras answered, attempting to pull away from Combeferre. "Absolutely nothing has gotten into me. There's no need to worry."

"I am not worrying, simply wondering. For a few weeks now you've seemed on edge every time we meet, I had simply thought something was troubling you."

"Well, you're wrong." Enjolras snapped, catching Combeferre off guard. "Nothing is troubling me, and everything is perfectly fine."

"Enjolras, stop lying to me. What is it that has you wound tight like this?"

"I told you, it is nothing, Combeferre, nothing I cannot handle myself." Enjolras finally turned her back on Combeferre, beginning to walk away, only to have him reach out and catch her arm, spinning her about.

"Enjolras, would you tell me if we were in private?"

Enjolras glared at Combeferre for a moment before pulling herself free of his hold. "Come ask me tomorrow and perhaps we can speak."

With that she pulled away and stalked to the other side of the room where Courfeyrac was standing over a map of Paris with Feuilly and Bahorel.

\- - -

"Julien, what a surprise. I thought Enjolras's cough had all but disappeared and that we wouldn't be seeing you again for some time."

Combeferre smiled kindly at Leon as he was ushered into the large house, his medical bag in hand. This had been his and Enjolras' guise for some time, claiming that Enjolras was bothered by a chronic cough, needing Combeferre to come and examine it, while in truth they were planning the revolution.

"It would seem this cough has no cure. I guess you'll still be seeing me until the mademoiselle believes that I have in fact cured her. Is she in her chambers, or has she commandeered the parlor again?"

"She's in her bed chamber still. She's locked herself in there, but she sounded absolutely dreadful. I do hope you can cure this."

Combeferre smiled, nodding his head. "I'm sure I can find something to remedy her cough, Monsieur. If you would please give me some time to examine your daughter, I'm sure I can remedy it."

"By all means. I'm sure you know where her chambers are by now."

"Oui Monsieur. Merci."

Combeferre had little trouble making his way to his friend's chamber, rapping lightly on the door before going in.

"Must we really continue to use this to hide our meetings? Can't I simply call on you and take you on more walks than usual?"

"It works well, and our walks are for my health, remember? You take me out twice a week to ensure that I get the proper amount of fresh air as I am cooped up in this house far too long." Enjolras retorted, still seated in her bed, a simple white dressing gown pulled around her. "Besides, my father would bar you from this house if he thought you wanted to court me."

"And what's to say that would be a horrible idea? What's to say pretending that I actually enjoy your company wouldn't be a horrible idea. Perhaps your father wouldn't shut me out." Combeferre replied, gently taking Enjolras' hand in his own. “Maybe you could give it a chance?”

Enjolras lifted herself up from the bed, pulling her legs about to the edge. “I really do have a cough though. My throat has been bothering me.”

“Ah, the truth comes spilling out.” Combeferre said with at Enjolras’ change in the subject. “Let’s see it then.”

It didn’t take long for Combeferre to clear her as being ‘perfectly fine, and fit to go about daily life’ which only brought the two of them to the real reason that Combeferre had come calling.

“Enjolras, about last night. What has gotten into you? A few weeks ago you would have never snapped at someone like you did with Pontmercy. What’s bothering you so much mon amie? Is there something that you aren’t telling me?”

Enjolras scowled as Combeferre asked the question she’d been dreading for some time now. “Nothing’s wrong with me. Have I not made that clear? I am fine, there is nothing that is the matter.”

“Enjolras, don’t lie.” Combeferre rebutted, reaching to take one of Enjolras’ hands only to have it pulled away. “Have you gone amiss with your father? He doesn’t suspect anything of what has been happening, has he.”

Enjolras rose from the bed, crossing to her vanity only to sit down and begin fussing with her hair. “No, he does not suspect anything of our little excursions. Thankfully I have been able to keep him oblivious of those intentions, but he wishes to marry me off. He wishes to do the thing I have no interest in.”

Combeferre nodded, walking across the room to her side. “Has he betrothed you to anyone yet, or is he letting you choose who you will marry?”

“What does it matter? He wishes to bind me in the chains of marriage, and soon.”

“Enjolras, it matters. If you can choose for yourself then you have freedom. You can choose someone who will allow you the choices you wish.” Combeferre smiled, crouching down to eye level with her, taking both her hands in his. “If you can choose who you wed, you have complete control over the situation.”

Enjolras was trying to blink back sobs as she nodded. “Oui, but I will still be bound in the bonds of marriage, I will be at the mercy of whoever will be my husband.”

Combeferre shook his head. “Enjolras you treat this as the end of the world. I’m sure there is some suitor out there who is willing to worship your existence for the rest of this life. Somewhere you there is a man who is willing to allow you the freedom you want. You simply have to open your eyes to see that. You simply need to open your eyes and see what is right in front of you.”

Enjolras nodded, a small smile finally framing her lips. “Thank you Julien, I will try to remember that. It is probably best you go now, Papa will become suspicious.”

“Oh of course. We can’t have your father thinking that your physician has more intentions for calling than his patient’s health.” Combeferre teased, gently lifting Enjolras’ hand to kiss it. “I will call on you in a few days, just to see how that cough is.”

\- - -

“Bonjour, Monsieur. I- I’m here to call on your daughter.” Grantaire stood before Leon Enjolras with a humble bouquet of flowers in his hands.

He and Enjolras had been on several outings since the afternoon Grantaire had come across her weeping in the park. To Enjolras’ relief, the other had not guessed her identity as Enjolras, the leader of Les Amis de l’ABC. Whether this was a blessing or a curse she had no idea. Leon had taken a bit of a liking to Grantaire, as it turned out that the young man was from a rather impressive line of Italian nobility, who had married well into French society.

“Of course, of course. She’s in the parlor. I doubt I need to show you the way.” Leon’s eyes gleamed with the hopes that perhaps this relationship his daughter was developing with this young gentleman would sprout a good marriage.

Enjolras was in fact seated in the parlor, a needlepoint in her hands, and a sewing basket at her side. She smiled as Grantaire walked in the door, taking little time to set her sewing aside.

“Renaud, I wasn’t expecting you until Wednesday. Not that I’ll complain to have your company here today.”

“I couldn’t bear waiting another two days to see you. I brought you some flowers in the hoped that you’ll forgive me for intruding on your peaceful afternoon.” Grantaire said, offering Enjolras the bouquet of flowers with a small smile.

“Renaud, you shouldn’t have. These are absolutely beautiful.”

“But not as beautiful as you.” Grantaire added with a kind smile.

Enjolras rather preferred Grantaire sober, as it brought out the good in him, though she did have to pretend she didn’t know what he was like drunk. He still didn’t know who she really was. He thought her nothing more than another young lady who spent her days working at a needlepoint, not plotting the downfall of the government in her silence.

“Shall we take a walk?” Enjolras asked politely, as they often went on walks when Grantaire came calling, simply to get out from under her father’s watchful gaze. “Unless you want to sit here and watch me work on my needlepoint that is.” She already knew the answer though.

“If you would like to walk then we shall.” Grantaire grinned, offering his arm.

Enjolras took it with all the grace of the lady she pretended she was. She had to tell Grantaire. She had to stop holding this veil over his eyes. He had to know that she wasn’t entirely all that she said she was. Of course her mind had been struggling with the scenarios that could happen. Perhaps he would leave her as soon as he found out that she was the blonde leader of the revolution. Perhaps he would simply choose not to believe her. The possibilities kept her from uttering the words to him. They prevented her from speaking of the thing she should have spoken of long ago. These worries were making it harder and harder for her to tell him the truth.

It was a fair day, the streets bustling as they walked arm in arm. Carriages rolled by, children ran along playing. Enjolras loved walking along the streets with her arm wrapped securely around Grantaire’s. Much of her inspiration and ideas for change came from these walks. Today seemed different as Grantaire led her along the streets to less familiar ones.

“Renaud, where are you taking me? We’ve never gone this way, and we have been gone for quite some time. Papa will be worried.”

Grantaire smiled at her, leading her through a gate and into a magnificent garden. He didn’t say a word but watched as Enjolras let go of his arm and walk farther into the garden. He watched in amusement as she walked about as if this was heaven. She turned back to Grantaire, childish delight written on her face.

“Renaud, this place is absolutely beautiful. Why haven’t we come here before?”

“I was saving it for a special day. It didn’t seem right until today.”

“What’s any different about today? What makes it any different?”

Grantaire smiled, and carefully took one of Enjolras’ slender hands in his, leading her to a bench beside a fountain. He gently guided her to sit at the side and still holding her hand, got down onto his knee.

“Jeanne Enjolras, belle mademoiselle. For weeks you have made me smile, and I cannot deny my feelings for you, ma Cherie.” He smiled, and stuck his free hand into his waist coat pocket, causing Enjolras’ stomach to churn.

He couldn’t have gotten permission to marry her. She couldn’t marry him, not yet, not when there was a revolution still to be fought. If she wed Grantaire she would not be able to cover her charade any longer. She already feared that Combeferre would spill her secret one day, but she trusted the medical student not to spill the secret. There was no telling what Grantaire would do.

“Jeanne, I’m going to mess this up if I start rambling about my feelings, so I’ll just get to the point. I know you don’t like poetic language and that you’d rather I just get on with it, so here it goes. Jeanne Noel Enjolras, would you agree to be my wife?”

She had known he was going to ask her. There had been no question, but this early? They had hardly known each other for a season. She didn’t want to accept the offer, but it would be odd for her to decline after they had become so close.

“I- I- Yes.”

What was she doing? She couldn’t just accept. She mentally reprimanded herself for not asking for some time to think. What would her father say? How would she cover her activities with the revolution now?

Grantaire smiled as he gently slipped an elegant ring onto her finger. The ring was not the usual simple and plain wedding band that was customary, but in the center a red stone glittered in the sunlight. Enjolras gazed in wonder at the elegant ruby that sat in the center of the ring. She had known Grantaire’s family was wealthy, but not that wealthy.

“Do you like it? It was my mother’s ring.”

“I- It’s magnificent. It’s beautiful.”

“The red compliments your golden locks I think. You look wonderful in red.”

She smiled, moving her attention from the ring on her finger back to Grantaire. Her hand gently touched his cheek.

“You certainly know how to find your way into a woman’s heart Monsieur Grantaire. Hopefully I am the only woman you wish to seek after.”

“None match your magnificence,  _ Mademoiselle Ange _ . The heavens sing when you enter a room, and the ground you walk on becomes sacred.”

Enjolras smiled as Grantaire’s hand gently touched her own cheek. Her chin tilted up to meet Grantaire’s gaze, as he was now standing above her. He gently leaned down, pressing his soft lips to her’s. His hand gently moved to her neck, keeping her close as he kissed her repeatedly. Enjolras’ eyes drifted close as Grantaire’s lips caressed her own. It was as if time had suddenly stopped. Nothing seemed to move as these two lovers shared this small moment. Nothing mattered outside of the garden. Eventually their lips parted, but they stayed in that proximity, feeling the other’s breath against their own.

“My dear Mademoiselle, has anyone ever told you that your lips are a blessing to man. Are you quite sure that you are not an angel fallen from heaven?”

“If I was, I don’t think I’d be allowed back, as my lips have now met those of mortal man, and they wish for more.”

Grantaire smiled, letting his lips touch Enjolras’ once more before he pulled away, letting his hand fall away back to his side. Enjolras almost didn’t want him to let go of her, she didn’t want that close proximity to be lengthened again. She hadn’t wanted that moment to end. Of course now she had no control over it.

Enjolras and Grantaire spent the remainder of their time together in the beautiful garden. Of course the time came that Grantaire had to escort her back home and the news had to be told to Enjolras’ father. Anxiety ran through Enjolras’ veins as they walked, she had to tell Grantaire of her other identity. She couldn’t simply keep this secret to him, but she couldn’t outright tell him that she was the revolutionary leader of the group he often attended, not when he had asked her to marry him. Her stomach clenched as they neared her home. Did she dare to tell him?

“Is everything alright, Jeanne? You seem so quiet.”

“Simply tired, mon amour. The day has been quite eventful.” Enjolras mumbled, leaning a little more heavily on Grantaire’s arm to emphasize her point.

Grantaire simply pulled her a little closer, kissing her brow softly. They walked a little longer in silence before reaching the doorway to Enjolras’ home. They were met by Leon, who was all too happy to discuss his daughter’s engagement. They didn’t set a date, but it was now something to consider.

Enjolras sat at the window that night, wondering just how she was going to pull through this. How was she going to break the news now?  How was she going to lead when she was now engaged to a man under her command, who didn’t know his leader was his soon to be wife?

\- - -

“I don’t care how it gets done, simply that it happens. This is not the time to question loyalties, and we need them on our side. We need their aid if we are to prevail. Feuilly, go to the Rue Clairaut and speak to the students there, try to gain their support. Joly-”

“Enjolras.”

“Not now Combeferre. Joly, I want you to take the Place du Docteur-Félix-Lobligeois-”

“Enjolras.”

“What do you wish to bring forward Combeferre, I am quite busy if you care to notice.” Enjolras finally snapped, turning on Combeferre.

“You know what I wish to bring forward Enjolras. Please, consider what you are doing, mon ami. Consider the impact of hastening the arrival of this revolution. We cannot be completely sure the people will rise if we rebel at this time.”

Enjolras scowled at Combeferre, knowing exactly what the underlying meaning was: ‘you have to think about your engagement, start acting like the wife you will soon need to be.’ She wasn’t going to step down and allow another to take her place, even when that action was being suggested in her best interest.

Enjolras had made it extremely evident in the past that she was not going to back down in anything that had anything to do with this revolution. She had given too much to this revolution to walk away at this point. She couldn’t simply drop her cause in the light of her engagement. Enjolras was too heavily involved and everyone knew that, she simply couldn’t afford to lose this fight.

She gently laid her hand on Combeferre’s shoulder, a small smile on her lips. “I am not suggesting we rise and fight at this very moment Combeferre, I am still waiting for the right moment, but we must be ready to fight at a moment’s notice. We must be prepared. I have a feeling that soon we will need to bring our full plan into action. Soon the barricades will rise.”

Hopefully they would rise before the wedding bells sounded for Jeanne Enjolras.

\- - - 

“Jeanne, we need to pick a date, we need to choose a day, or else our parents will do it for us.” Grantaire mumbled as he gently wrapped his arms around Enjolras’ waist, his lips gently caressing her cheek. “Or would you rather they choose the date?”

“I would like it if we didn’t have to have a large, grand ceremony. I simply want to marry you, and leave it at that, but Papa insists on a grand affair.” Enjolras replied, leaning back against Grantaire. “Of course I would rather just have it be simply you and me with no audience.”

Grantaire chuckled softly. “You aren’t alone in that request. I simply wish it was as simple as asking you to be my wife, and you accepting. I wish we could simply do that and be done with it.”

“Who ever said it couldn’t be that simple?”

“Our parents. Do you want me to confront them on allowing us to have a quiet ceremony limited to simply family?”

Enjolras looked up and kissed Grantaire’s chin softly. “Would you? I’ve asked Papa, but he’s simply being unreasonable.”

“I’ll have a word with him. Now, what would you like to do this afternoon? Shall we go to the market, or would you like to spend the afternoon in the gardens?”

“I don’t feel like going out today, perhaps we could find something to read aloud to each other in the library.” Enjolras answered softly, gently taking one of Grantaire’s hands.

“I have an idea, how about I sketch you. It has been some time, and your features are as beautiful as ever.”

“Can I read while you sketch me?”

Grantaire smiled, turning her to face him. “You can do whatever you like as long as you stay still for me.” He muttered softly before kissing her lips. 

Enjolras went to her room to fetch the book she had been reading, and returned to find Grantaire pulling his sketchbook and pencils from his bag. He was already seated in a chair facing across from one under the window. Enjolras sat herself down on the couch he had left vacant.

“Do you want my dress draped any particular way?”

“No, the way you are sitting now is just fine. Perhaps angle yourself a little more towards me perhaps.”

Enjolras did so, and after receiving a confirming nod from Grantaire began to read where she had left off. They stayed this way for some time, Grantaire diligently drawing his fiancee with Enjolras lounging on the couch with her nose in her book. No one disturbed them, as no one wanted either to become upset. After a while Enjolras glance up from her book.

“Are you finished?”

“Not quite, don’t move.” Grantaire made a few small adjustments to the drawing before turning it to show Enjolras. “It isn’t a very good representation, and it in no way magnifies your beauty, but I tried my best.”

Enjolras was in awe as she gently took the sketchbook from Grantaire’s hands, her finger lightly touching the page, careful not to smear it.

“It’s absolutely gorgeous, but Renaud, darling, this isn’t me. Somehow you have replaced me with an angel of my mother.”

Grantaire smiled, gently taking the book back. “I simply drew what I saw my dear. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Enjolras regarded the angel reading a book that was on the page. Was this how others saw her? An angel in disguise? She had never thought herself beautiful, or anything close to desireable, but now… Perhaps there was reason for all those suitors to want her. Perhaps her father was right and she really had gotten her mother’s beauty. That would explain the way Combeferre had been looking at her for more than a year now, as if she was more than just his childhood friend, as if he wanted something other than her companionship, as if he… 

She banished the thought from her head. She was engaged to another man, and there would be no turning back. She smiled at Grantaire and gently laid a kiss on his cheek.

“Will you stay for supper? Papa’s been expecting you to stay for some time. I think he misses conversing about politics.”

“Leave it to your father to want to talk about the government with a man born outside the country. I’ll flatter him and pretend I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m teasing, Papa’s out visiting a new business partner and said he would be returning late.”

“I’ll stay then, it is the least I can do for the woman who will soon be my wife.”

Dinner was a simple affair. Leon was out on business, leaving Enjolras and Grantaire alone to enjoy the meal in each other’s company. Of course afterwards Grantaire bid his fiancee goodnight and was about to leave when Enjolras suddenly collapsed in the doorway, her face having suddenly gone pale. Grantaire raced to her side, catching her before she fell.

“Go fetch a doctor.” He ordered one of the servants who had ran into the room at the commotion. 

The servant darted from the house, leaving Grantaire to scoop Enjolras into his arms and carry her to her chambers.

\- - - 

“Will she be alright?”

This question was posed by a rather distraught Leon, who had been interrupted at a dinner party with the news that his daughter had fallen ill. The man still had his coat and hat on, having been in such a rush to gain any news of his daughter’s fate that he had forgotten to remove them. He was questioning Grantaire, who had been in the room for sometime with Combeferre, aiding him in any way possible. The young man shook his head.

“She hasn’t stirred, and Doctor Combeferre isn’t quite sure what is the matter with her. He said he may have to call on one of his superiors to diagnose her correctly.”

“It’s serious then?”

Grantaire only answered with a solemn nod. 

“It is a good thing you were here. I don’t know what would have become of her if this had come over her while she was alone.”

“One of the servants would have tended her, I’m sure. Someone would have found her and called for a doctor.”

Leon smiled sadly, shaking his head. 

“No, I think I would have been the one to find her, she does prefer not to be bothered at times.”

“I’ll assume she exhibits that by being extremely silent and refusing to answer any sort of call from anyone, even if it is out of concern.”

“She gets herself enveloped in projects. She’ll sit for hours in the parlor reading a book, or spend hours upon hours sitting at her writing desk, working on some huge manuscript. It’s like she becomes a whole other person when she gets passionate about something. Of course she also gets silent and refuses to acknowledge the rest of the world.”

Grantaire smiled, knowing he could be that way as well, so wrapped up in painting or drawing that he forgot the world around him.

The door opened, and Combeferre stepped out, his coat draped over his arm, his sleeves rolled up. His glasses were perched on the end of his nose.

“Before you ask, I can’t be sure what’s wrong. I’m going to fetch one of my superiors who can better diagnose her ailment. She’s awake now, though she’s quite delirious. I would suggest that someone sit with her until I return, just to keep her from falling unconscious. I’ll be back within the hour.”

With that Combeferre left the two men in the hallway outside Enjolras’ bedchamber. Grantaire and Leon exchanged a few silent moments of looking at each other before Grantaire spoke.

“I should leave you two be, I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“No, she’ll want you here. You’re her fiance, you deserve to be at her side.”

Grantaire nodded, looking at the door for a moment before looking back at Leon, who seemed to have just noticed that his hat and coat were still on. 

“Don’t worry lad, I’m sure she hasn’t contracted the plague. Go, sit with her. I’ll be in to see her in a few moments.”

Grantaire nodded, taking a few breaths before he carefully opened the door and let himself into Enjolras’ chambers.

She looked like death. It had hardly been an hour since she had fallen, and she already looked like she was on her deathbed. She was indeed awake, though her eyes roamed over the room as if she had never seen it before. Her eyes alighted on Grantaire and her lips turned up in a small smile.

“Grantaire.”

The name seemed alien to Grantaire, especially in this setting. Never had Jeanne Enjolras uttered that name, she hardly even knew it, but here she was saying it as if she called him by his surname.

“Bonjour again. I hope you don’t mind that I’m still here. Your father insisted.”

Enjolras smiled, her eyes lingering for a moment longer on Grantaire before roaming elsewhere.

“How did I get here?”

Her voice was soft, fairly weak, much unlike the Enjolras that Grantaire knew.

“You fell in the entry before I left. I carried you up here. Didn’t Combeferre tell you?”

“Oui, but I wanted to be sure.” She said softly.

Grantaire pulled a chair over to her bedside, and seated himself there.  Enjolras’ hand extended, her palms open to Grantaire. A strong, but gentle and carefully wrapped itself around her’s, their fingers intertwining. They stayed that way for some time, sitting in silence. Neither spoke, Enjolras’ eyes roamed about the room. Eventually Enjolras’ eyes began to droop, and her hold on Grantaire’s hand slackened. Grantaire gently touched Enjolras’ cheek, his voice soft as he spoke.

“Stay awake, Dearest. Combeferre wants you to stay awake until he returns. Do you want to talk to me about something?” He kept a smile on his lips as he gently stroked Enjolras’ hair with his free hand, moving to sit on the side of her bed.

“Papa always says I look like Maman.” Enjolras murmured, simply letting her mouth move. “I miss Maman. I-I wish she was still here, I wish she could have met you. She would have liked you.” Enjolras smiled at Grantaire. “She was always kind, and she had the voice of an angel. I miss her.”

Grantaire smiled, gently brushing a strand of hair outside of Enjolras’ eyes. 

“I would have liked to have met her.” He said softly.  Leon had talked briefly about Enjolras’ mother, but never in any sort of detail.

“I’m sure she was a great mother.”

“The best.” Enjolras mused, her voice still sounding extremely breakable. “She was always the one I ran to. She had a soft touch, like your’s. I always felt safe with her, because she was my guardian angel. That’s what Papa told me, that mother’s are their children’s guardian angel, and would always be protecting them.” She frowned a moment. “Papa said that Maman left because I didn’t need protecting. I-I still need protecting.”

“Hey, I’m here. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, alright?” Grantaire gently touched Enjolras’ cheek, a smile on his lips. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going to let you slip away from me, alright?”

“Maman would have liked you, Renaud. She would have liked you.”

\- - -

Combeferre returned to find Grantaire asleep in the armchair beside Enjolras’ bed, and Leon having taken up the station of keeping Enjolras awake, if not alert. Combeferre’s superior, one of the professors at the medical university, followed the young man. The room was quickly cleared, Combeferre gently waking Grantaire to get him to leave the room.

It took some time, but eventually Combeferre and the professor emerged. Both have grave looks on their faces. Neither made eye contact for a few moments.

“Well what is it? She will heal, won’t she?” Leon finally broke the silence, his impatience getting to him. “My daughter will be alright?”

“Only time can tell, Monsieur. Your daughter has been taken ill with fever. She seems strong, but only time can tell if she will recover.” The professor answered, putting his hat on. “Etienne will stay here and care for her, I’ll call again in the morning. I would suggest both of you rest. It may be some time until she is well again.”

The professor bid them goodnight and left. Combeferre remained in the doorway to Enjolras’ chambers, his sleeves rolled up and his glasses slightly askew.

“It will be alright. Jeanne is a strong woman, she’ll pull through.” Combeferre assured, trying for a comforting smile. “I’m sure she will combat this and get back on her feet soon enough.”

“We can hope.” Grantaire muttered. “Is she still awake, or did you finally allow her to rest?”

“She’s sleeping, something I would suggest you do as well.” Combeferre said. “She’ll be fine, the fever’s only just come on. I’ll sit with her through the night. Your fiancee is in good hands.”

Grantaire shook his head. “I can’t leave. I know how this works, I’ll expose my family to it.”

“No, this is different. It isn’t Scarlet Fever. I would only worry about spreading it to small children.”

“My youngest sister is twelve.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Go home and rest. She will still be here in the morning. Monsieur Enjolras, I would advise the same for you. There is nothing we can do to help Jeanne more than to make sure we have rest as well. I will notify both of you if anything changes suddenly.”

Leon and Grantaire both nodded, following Combeferre’s advice and clearing out. Leon bid Grantaire good night before retiring to his chambers. Grantaire’s carriage ride home was one of sorrow.

Thoughts of Enjolras lying weakly in her bed still filled his mind. The way she had called him Grantaire, much like another he knew.

\- - -

Several weeks were spent in the same manner. Grantaire would come in the mornings and sit with Enjolras as long as he could. Leon would spend all day at home, only venturing away from the house to spend time in the cathedral to pray for his daughter’s soul.

Enjolras showed no signs of improving, causing all to worry. Grantaire began spending nights in the same manner as Combeferre, sitting in an armchair beside Enjolras’ bed, only drifting off for what felt like minutes at a time. 

Eventually her condition improved, and she began to heal. Combeferre restricted her to her chambers, lest she fall ill again. She didn’t protest too much when Grantaire came calling with flowers and many well wishes from his sister and parents. Enjolras had no lack of visitors, but she prefered the company of Grantaire more than any.

“I’m sorry I’ve made us prolong the wedding.”

“All is well. I would much rather you do this all here and now rather than at the alter.”

“You just don’t want me worrying you.”

“I would rather you not.” Grantaire said with a laugh, his gaze lowering slightly. “Jeanne, the night you fell ill, you didn’t call me Renaud when I first came in, you called me Grantaire. Do you remember that?”

“Renaud, it was nothing. I wasn’t thinking when I said it.”

“Jeanne, you sounded much like another I know. Is there something you are keeping from me?”

Enjolras was trying her best to stay calm. She couldn’t let on that Grantaire’s assumptions were correct, she couldn’t let him know that she was in fact keeping things from him. If she let on as to who she was, or more who she pretended to be, Grantaire would tell her father, and the revolution would be halted.

“Maybe you were as exhausted as I that night.” She murmured softly. “Perhaps you heard more than what I said.” She gently took Grantaire’s hand. Pulling it up to her lips to kiss it. “I’m not hiding anything from you darling.”

Grantaire nodded, his brow still furrowed in thought.

“Perhaps, perhaps.” He murmured softly before changing the subject. “I spoke with your father, as well as my parents, and in light of the past few weeks, they’ve agreed that perhaps a small ceremony would be better.”

\- - -

It was quickly becoming harder to hide her actions. It was far more difficult to hide her excursions as Enjolras, leader of the revolution. She had married Grantaire but a few weeks prior. Her excuses for leaving during the evenings were masked by visits to childhood friends who now lived in Paris. Of course none of those friends were ever visited, but it was a good excuse.

Tonight had been especially difficult as Grantaire had asked her to stay home. Of course she made an excuse, retired early, and snuck out through the garden in order to attend her meeting.

“I beg of you, think of the cost. Think of what you are committing to.” A very stern glance was shot at Marius as Enjolras spouted those words. “Think of the price you must pay. If any man here is not ready to give himself for the good of the country I will ask him to leave.”

Enjolras knew Combeferre was at her side, ready to intervene if she became too cold, to harsh. They were days away, and the tension could be felt in the room. They were prepared to make their stand, they only waited for a sign.

A young boy, Gavroche, came running into the room, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“General Lamarque is dead! He’s dead!”

This was the sign they had waited for, the sign they needed. Enjolras jumped on it and immediately started organizing exactly how they would rise. The night continued in such a manner that Enjolras lost track of the time. Eventually she had to bid her men good evening, leaving Combeferre to wrap up. She hurried home, stopping only to hide her disguise.

She returned home before Grantaire and was sitting up reading when he returned. Her head turned to look up as the door opened, admitting Grantaire. Enjolras was always amazed at how quickly he could sober up after a meeting. The first few nights of this routine it had frightened her. Now that the initial shock had worn off she was able to go about confronting him afterwards with a little less caution.

“I’ll assume all went well, as you had little trouble finding your way home.”

“It was alright.” Grantaire mumbled, pulling off his boots, coat, cravat, and vest.

Enjolras found that she rather liked watching his hands pull at the cravat that always looked messily tied. She was astounded to think that once she had thought him just another of the lower class, not a descendant of nobility. Of course, before that day in the park, she really hadn’t cared all that much. Now on the other hand, now she cared more than ever.

Both were the rich, meddling in the lives of the poor, hoping to make the world just a little bit more fair.

“Have you been sitting reading all this time?” Grantaire inquired, sitting beside her now in the bed.

“No, I worked on needlepoint for a time. You shouldn’t be surprised with my abilities. You’ve seen me read for hours.”

“Yes, but I had assumed that you would be asleep before I returned.”

Enjolras smiled, moving so that she could wrap her arms around Grantaire.

“I want your face to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep, your lips the last thing I touch. I- I wanted to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have pressed after you refused.” She set her head against his shoulder. “I promise I won’t go calling quite so often now.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Grantaire mumbled, leaning over to kiss her. “Why don’t you get to sleep? I have a few things to do before I retire, but I promise they won’t take long.”

\- - -

Enjolras worried with her handkerchief. They would be launching their revolution the next day, and she couldn’t simply disappear. Grantaire had gone out for a time to deal with some business, and in his absence Enjolras worried about what she was going to do, how she was going to break the news that she was the leader of the revolution. Perhaps she wouldn’t, perhaps she could feign a trip to visit her father at his country estate. She simply couldn’t stay in Paris and let him come home to his wife missing. Of course, should she parish he would find out soon enough.

The sound of the door opening and shutting carried into the parlor. A servant rushed past the open door to fetch a coat and hat. Enjolras knew Grantaire had returned, and she must make her choice.

“Darling, I couldn’t find anything to match your beauty, so I picked up something I was sure would please you.” Grantaire announced, walking into the parlor with a small parcel in hand.

He gave it to Enjolras, smiling as he sat beside her, waiting for her thin fingers to untie the string and open the packaging. He frowned when her hands didn’t move.

“Well, open it. I want to see how you like it.”

Enjolras almost reluctantly unwrapped the gift, opening the small box he had given her to find a familiar silver locket inside. Enjolras’ fingers delicately touched the object, looking to Grantaire in surprise.

“How did you- this was my mother’s. Papa’s had it tucked away for years.”

“Your father gave it to me before he left for the country. He wanted to give it to you himself, but he needed to leave and it needed a little fixing.”

Tears welled in Enjolras’ eyes as she looked at her husband, a warm smile on her lips.

“It’s wonderful. But I don’t remember it needing repairs.”

“It needed a new chain, so I spoke with the silversmith to have one made. Here, do you want me to put it on?”

Enjolras nodded, handing the necklace over and turning to allow him to fasten it around her neck. Her eyes stung with tears as Grantaire’s gentle hands fastened the necklace, letting the small trinket fall against her skin.

“I-I-”

“Sh.” Grantaire said softly. “You don’t need to say anything. It was your father’s idea.”

“No, no, it isn’t.” She couldn’t break the news to him now, it would ruin the moment. “Thank you.”

\- - -

Enjolras stood at the head of the barricade, her hands clenched around a rifle. A pistol was at her side, and a charge box sitting not too far away. She was ready to fight, still with the fact of her true identity hidden to most of the men there. She could see Grantaire from where she sat, a bottle in his hand. How much longer could she keep this from him?

“Enjolras.”

The blonde jumped as Combeferre spoke. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t heard him approach.

“You haven’t told him yet, have you?” The physician asked, a small frown pulling at his lips.

“Non.” She muttered, shaking her head. “I’m going to.”

“You know he really cares for you, both of your identities. You really should tell him.”

Enjolras bit her lip, looking at Combeferre. “I don’t want to break his heart. If he knows...I don’t want to do that to him. I really simply want to make it out of here alive and let him believe that I was a good wife and stayed home waiting for him.”

“Enjolras, you have to tell him. You can’t live two separate lives like this. Can one man..or woman, serve two separate lives like you have and still accept both fates? You have to let your two lives collide Enjolras. Think what might happen if you don’t live through this and Grantaire goes home to find you missing. He’ll know one way or the other, and it’s probably best you tell him yourself.”

Enjolras glanced once again in Grantaire’s direction before looking back at Combeferre. “What’s to say he won’t end me before the fighting even begins?”

“He’s not your father, Enjolras. I’m sure he’ll listen to you.”

Enjolras took a deep breath before inching her way down the barricade, making her way over to Grantaire. Her hand fidgeted in her pocket as she played with the ring and locket hidden there. She never went anywhere without them.

“Grantaire, may I speak with you for a few moments? In private?” Her voice wavered a little as she looked at her now husband, who looked rather confused at the request. He followed the blonde into the now empty cafe none the less.

“Enjolras, is everything alright? Don’t you have a revolution to run?” Grantaire asked once they were alone.

Enjolras’ stomach churned as she looked at the man who had once been just another face in the crowd to her, a man who was now so much more than another drunk in the cafe. “Grantaire, I’ve been keeping something from you...for too long. I- I should have told you this months ago.” Her hands reached into her pocket, producing the locket and ring. “I-I’m really your wife.” She cut him off before he could say anything. “I know you want proof. That day you first met me….well met Jeanne, I was crying because my father had threatened to marry me off. The day you asked me to marry you, I had half a mind to tell you about this charade then. All the calls I’ve made since we were married, they were all lies. I-”

“Enjolras, you don’t have to say it all. I’ve known for a time about this. Combeferre told me, while you were ill.” Grantaire said with a small smile.

“You- you knew? Why did you let me come here then? Why have you allowed me to keep going on like this?”

“Because I enjoy seeing you so bright. I enjoy seeing your fire, the fire you don’t show at home.”

Enjolras’ eyes began to fill with tears as she looked at her husband. Her lips held a smile as her eyes met his. “So you accept me as this? You aren’t annoyed that I’ve done all this, thinking it was behind your back?”

Grantaire smiled. “I know you would have told me eventually. I still love you for it. You are an angel, a goddess in my eyes, and it’s when you are preaching for change that you show your wings.”

Enjolras hugged him then, her arms wrapping around his neck. Slowly her lips met his, her tears finally falling. “Can you keep the secret until the fight is over?”

“I think I can keep it for a little while longer.”

\- - -

A letter was delivered to Leon Enjolras upon his return to Paris. It had no address, only his name written in careful penmanship. Upon opening the letter he was met with his daughter’s careful handwriting, and a small locket.

“Dearest Papa,

“I asked that this letter be delivered to you upon your return to Paris. I can’t express how I feel at this moment, or fully explain all I hope to. I will tell you what truly matters. I wasn’t fully truthful to you. The revolution you once called useless and futile, I was involved, more I was its leader. The trousers you found over a year ago were my disguise. I haven’t been fully truthful to many, and now I must pay the consequences.

“Papa, Grantaire and I will not make it through this battle. I know that already. This is my goodbye, and my apology. I wish I could embrace you one last time, whisper to you how much I love you, but I am not going to be afforded that luxury. I pray you’ll forgive me for not being the perfect daughter you wanted me to be. I really do love you Papa, but Maman is calling me home.

“Jasyme.”

Leon looked at the locket. He knew it well. His fingers admired the new chain as he sat back in his chair, glancing out the window for a moment.

“You made a lad very happy.”

 


End file.
